Listening to Leopold’s symphony
for two minutes,
I was bored.
My mind wondered.
I recalled the dramatic first chords
of Wolfgang’s symphony 41
how it awakened me
how I was hooked by his energy and zest.

Even though Leopold taught his son,
the fame of the impulsive and creative Amadeus spread
as he wrote and played
and captured the attention of the world.

I wonder what poor Leopold thought of his own work
in contrast to his prolific son
a son who seemingly created great music
from nothing
who freed himself from tired conventions.

A creator makes something from nothing
and I wonder if being lost in nothingness
as we poets sometimes are,
if letting go of the familiar
makes it easier to create.

His posture's poor, eyes alight
Disposition awkward, nobody can understand
trouble he stirs, he brings forth a fight
His glinting eyes scrutinizes the world, dull and bland.

Lightly he walks, as free as the wind
An air he can be, yet earthquakes he shall bring
His intentions are unknown, his presence enigmatic
His sentiments are mirrored by his sling.

That poor frustrated soul has always been alone
He's free, and yet he's on his own
But he shall live, yes, he shall be
Away from the society's eyes that cannot see.

His love is
My deviant poison
Spread across
Ocean of stars
Showering wicked desires
Of disobedient delusions
Dancing under the moon

I have secrets and lies I tell even myself
I strive to appear normal
For I am ashamed of my deviances
I resent that what I like could get me labeled a freak


Our limbs entwined as we  cuddle and kiss
The clothes we wore strewn across several rooms
The heat radiating between us
My secrets burning a hole in my heart


But how can you know that I want more and I'm ashamed of those cravings
I haven't told you, I am afraid of being judged, abandoned, and mocked
How can I trust with how many times I've been burned before, I'm paranoid


Would you step out of your comfort zone for me
Would you stick by me, or would you be angry or disgusted or unsympathetic to my desires

Basically
I'm the
disease

your
poor heart
could not

pump,
process,
or purify

the
tasteless
something
in the water

waste drains
exit into your water

Put you in duress,
the deviant disaster,
the master depravity,
the agender **** toy,
smiling sodomite

offered only carnal
distress for your innocence,
trash for your
sacred naivete


(but I'm not wrong . am i // am i .)

Parking his car
By the gate of a hospital
A man got into a bar,
From an eye-shot  
Not far!

After a thief unfastened
The 4 bolts of a tyre,
The sale of which
Helps him make his day,
Seeing the owner
Approaching,
With the four bolts
He ran away.

Stranded, the owner
Was forced there  to stay
At a loss what to do
And  say!

"If you take  a bolt
A tyre from the
Remaining three,
With three bolts each
All the tyres will agree
To allow the car move free!"
Advised him a man tall
Who with patients'
Pajama sat
On the hospital's wall
Observing all.

Doing so
Thankful the driver
Managed home to go!

On the morrow,
Taken by surprise
He wanted
That mentally sick
To speak.

Going to the hospital
"Tell me pal
With such intuition
How come
You join this hospital?"

"My friend,
If you deviate
From the normal
You are abnormal,
It is the likes of you,
The mentally sick,
That stranded me here
a maverick!"
'

A green plant, a deviant to society.
But why so be. When the, so true to me.
Educate before hate, a medication people take for relaxation, a patient in the hospital of time.
Memories of the lies, and despair fill the air not only to realize, a seed of Mother Earth that can mask all of the dark sides and demise. Is not legal in the eyes of the big men.
So again I say, a deviant to society I hide to be, high the key, in the aid to my struggle, a deviant to society.